


Change

by princesskay



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Dom/sub Play, M/M, PWP, Spanking, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:45:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One thing never changes - I am Tom's, and when the need presses me to desperation, to the touch of my own hand, so unskilled compared to his, I will feel the sting of punishment when he are finally reunited in the shadows of the night. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change

We all strive for change, as if it were a thing to be greatly desired, but never attained. We wish for ourselves to be better, whether it be our bodies, faces, minds, or hearts. Nothing is ever good enough because perfection is the highest goal. But even in this struggle, we do change. Experiences, desires, losses, and even the people around us shape us to become an image we never even realized was our own face. We are all but shadows of our former selves, drawn in shades of black and white, the areas we know well, and the grays, the places we did not dare investigate. We are lost to the illusion that we know ourselves, when we never truly can, because that form is always being reshaped to something new, often more terrifying than the last evolution. Though we strive to regain our golden years, or scratch and claw to find those perfect, wondrous days, we are neither moving forward nor backward. We are who we are, though undergoing changes that are so quiet and subtle, they can hardly be noticed, until one day, the new instincts rise up to claim us.  
Had someone told my younger self that I would find a love so strong that it could not change, come hell or high water, I would've scoffed. Even as a youth, I knew everything changes. I was always changing things about myself, whether it be my appearance or what I thought on certain topics. My father was absent, my mother was seeing a new man, my brother and I were trying to sing. We were all changing, rapidly, constantly, at the speed of light. I thought my life would never be stable. And to this day, it is always shifting beneath my feet, far beyond my control. . . .until I come home. Home is where I find him, my light and lover, the single constant my life will always contain.  
I go to him, where he is sheathed in the shadows of night, his body full of perfect, strong lines and cords of muscle. Bare moonlight makes the honey-brown expanse of skin glow, just a swath across his mighty chest. His face is curtained by heavy, twisted strands of dirty blond hair; I can barely see his eyes glinting between the soft, thick ropes.  
He extends his hand to me, a quiet invitation. Words are needless here. I take his hand and he draws me in, his mouth inviting me for a taste of sin. I quiver in hot, reckless need, taking his lips with vigor that has been broiling inside me all day. Like air to fire, I need him to breathe. Cradling my cheek softly in his palm, he draws me in closer, plundering my mouth with exquisite taste and finesse. His other hand quests down the path of spine until he finds the edge of my pants. They are loosened for him ahead of time, my need presenting itself in the unnecessary preparedness.  
Our lips part and he smirks.  
“Please. . .” I murmur a groan, pressing up against him.  
Our eyes meet, his hot and hungry, mine desperate and pleading as he plunges his hand beneath my jeans. The rising swell of my erection is nestled there between my quivering thighs, throbbing to be free and naked. His palm grazes the needy flesh through thin cotton, causing my breathing to spike.  
“Oh God. . .”  
He guides me to the bed and I go compliantly, eager for him to take me. I stretch out across the mattress and deliver my most seductive gaze. He swiftly rips my jeans off and tosses them aside. A loud sigh spills off his lips, followed by a gentle, pleased smile. He lays firm, warm hands on my knees and thrusts my legs apart, wrenching a sharp moan from my throat. My cock nudges a growing tent into my boxers, leaving a bit of the material damp with arousal. I'm so hot and hard for him already, I have no idea how long I'll last.  
He reaches down and strokes me through my underwear, watching with perusing eyes as my spine curves and my lips part in a quiet, lustful cry. His hand drags on and on for what seems like an eternity until his fingers slip away and he gathers the boxers away from my pleading erection. Cool air rushes across the dampened tip, giving me a shiver that gathers and knots low in my stomach.  
He kneels between my legs, pressing his thighs warmly against the backs of mine. I curl my calves around his waist, dragging him in closer, trying to communicate my need without resorting to the mewling, whimpering sound of my voice. He leans over me, stroking a hand across the ridge of my flushing cheekbone and the swell of my lower lip. He lets his thumb slip inside, cutting across my lower teeth. I flick my tongue forward, tasting salty skin and the familiar fruit of him. He doesn't withdraw his hand, so I close my lips around the digit, sucking in slow, deliberate pulls. My eyes reach up to his and I blush when his heavy, aroused expression blankets mine.  
He pulls with hand back with a groan and makes a grab at my nipple. His wet thumb caresses the hardening flesh causing my member lower down to grow just the same. I curse quietly and throw my head back against the sheets, severely turned on by the tiny touch.  
“Tom. . .” I groan his name, certain that this time, he will understand how much I need it, “Tom, please. . .”  
“What is it, Bibi?” He croons, leaning over me to deposit a chaste kiss on my forehead.  
I tilt my head back, searching for his lips branding mine, “You. . .I need you.”  
His lips skim down the curve of my nose and hover at the rounded tip, eyes turned down to assess my distressed gaze. Then he leans back and drags his hand down my stomach, “You don't know what you need. . .not yet.”  
I swallow hard, “Then show me.”  
“Turn over.”  
My stomach clenches hard. So many things – so many sinful, dirty, pleasurable things – happen when he turns me on my stomach. In this position, I am helpless, and the things he does to me incapacitate my faculties.  
I quickly obey, eager to discover what new pleasure lies ahead.  
He pushes my legs apart and slides between them, hands already roaming all over my ass. His fingers are long and strong, gathering up flesh and kneading it in a steady, erotic grasp. Of all the things I love about my Tom, his hands are perhaps my favorite. They devise possibilities and scenarios beyond my wildest dreams, and wreak pleasure upon my body that I did not think was possible. They are strong and beautiful, and they only ever touch me with perfection.  
“Have you been bad today?” He begins, his voice a low, arousing timbre.  
My heart begins to pound frantically, for I know what is coming. I bit my lower lip hard and breath out through my nose. I can never come up with the right answer quickly enough.  
“What did you do?” He asks, curiously, shamelessly rubbing his cock up against my butt cheek while I know I cannot have it yet.  
“I. . .I. . .” I sputter.  
How does he know? How does he always know what I have done? Can he smell it on me – the scent of my self-love staining my hands and the insides of my thighs?  
“Tell me.” He urges, fondling my bottom harder.  
“I. . .I touched. . .” I begin, my voice ending a wheeze, “T-touched myself. . .”  
“Why didn't you just come to me?” He questions.  
“I-I needed it bad. . .” I whisper, my throat hoarse and dry, “I needed it right then.”  
“What have I told you about patience?” He murmurs, mouth nuzzling up against my ear with hot breaths.  
“Tom, please. . .Don't. . .”  
“I'm going to punish you, darling.” He goes on, ignoring my quiet pleas, “Just how you like.”  
“No, I don't. . .”  
“Yesss. . .” His voice is a quiet hiss, raking pleasure across my nerve-endings.  
Here, he lays the first strike, his palm flat and sharp against my buttock. I utter an alarmed protest, but my insides are already twisting with need. Following a soft stroke of his hand, he delivers a second, marring the same spot. I react again, lurching against the bed and fisting dramatically at the sheets.  
“Tom, pleeeease. . .”  
His hand smacks across my skin, quick and clean. The pain is a stinging, biting sensation that gets under my skin and straight to my core, where the flesh begins to throb in tandem.  
“You like how that feels?” He questions, already fully aware of the answer.  
I arch my butt up in the air like a feline, offering a needy moaning sound.  
He spreads his other hand across my lower back, right over top my tailbone, forcing my back to curve more sharply. I'm entirely exposed to him, spread out and vulnerable; had he desired to slip his fingers into me now, he could have. . .but I know he won't. He lingers here, at this line between pain and pleasure, waiting for me to dissolve into a quivering, sobbing mess of desperation.  
His hand comes down swiftly, harder this time if I'm not mistaken. He doesn't pause through the next several strikes, allowing his palm to come down over and over, smacking at my taut, aching ass cheeks until I am distraught with pain and need.  
“Please. . .” I break down moaning, the tears pushing to my eyes with frustration, “Please, I need you so bad! I'm sorry for doing it without you!”  
He offers another, lighter smack, “That's what you said last time, my love.”  
I sniff quietly, “But. .but, I. . .”  
He lets me down and I sigh in relief. I feel his weight hovering over me and he whispers up against my ear, “Next time I'll make you describe it to me. . .down to the feeling of cum sliding through your fingers.”  
“Ohhh. . .” I blush crimson.  
He rises from the bed and I crane my neck to see him. He gets the lube and saunters back the bed, his eyes scintillating in the semi-darkness. Dreadlocks sway past his broad shoulders, and not for the first time, I think him a barbaric and base native, brutal in his need, but beautiful in the end. His love his simple and complete, like a circle that has no beginning or ending.  
Kneeling behind me, he applies lube between my outstretched legs. With a few finger strokes, he pushes inside, penetrating me for the first time today. I gasp aloud, recalling that I touched myself this way earlier, but the experience was not nearly as wonderful. His fingers go deep inside me, pushing back the minimal resistance of fleeting pain and washing me new in pleasure. I writhe, my desire complete, as he works his fingers in and out, preparing me for his loving. I push my knees beneath myself and lever upward, trying to get the best angle to the thrusts of his hand. I can feel myself opening up beneath his skilled touch, and I know it will not be long.  
I quiver and cry out when I feel his mouth join in, his tongue thrilling along the crease until it reaches the puckered skin that is being penetrated at the center. He licks softly, letting his tongue go in with his fingers a few, erotic times.  
I hump back against his fingers, moaning louder and louder. I want it so badly, and I know I am ready. The way he makes me wait is so frustrating, but in the end, so gratifying.  
“Please. . .Tom! Fuck. . .” I groan, my whole body twisting when his fingers graze my pleasure spot.  
He lifts his head and slowly allows his fingers to stroke out of me. He wordlessly picks up the lube and covers himself in the clear, cool liquid. I lay rigidly against the sheets, waiting with growing impatience for him to mount me. I want to scream for him to just get on me already, but something like Tom and I can't be rushed. Tom knows that it needs to be nurtured and stroked to full capacity before the lovemaking begins. This is why he, not I, is in charge.  
I gasp when I feel the head of his cock against me. The flesh is alive with rapid pulses, blood and arousal straining behind a thin veil of tightly stretched skin.  
“In me. . .” I breathe, my voice ragged with need, “Please. . .get in me.”  
“I know. . .” He murmurs, his thumb stroking across my tailbone, “You've been waiting all day, haven't you?”  
I nod, vigorously, “Need you sooo bad. . .”  
He slides forward, putting just the tip inside me. I resist the urge to pound my fists against the sheets.  
There is a single moment of silence, and then he pushes forward. Hard. So hard, I want to scream, this time in pleasure instead of impatience. He is inside me, filling up that achingly empty space that has been missing him all day.  
I begin to moan again, but my words get lost in a jumble of pleasure. He starts off at a quick, grinding pace, pleasuring me so wonderful that words would sound stupid and inadequate trying to explain. I'm grasping at the sheets and pushing back against him, need and pleasure amounting to desperation now that his dick is in me.  
“Yes. . .” I chant softly, “Yes, yes. . .”  
His hands clasp over my hips, dragging me onto his cock while his hips glide forward to meet me. His hips seat themselves against my ass each time, fucking his cock in deep, balls deep.  
Gasping and groping at the bed, I screech in pleasure. All the air is stolen from my lungs and my ass aches with the rapid penetration. It hurts and feels good, like a battering ram is slamming up against my prostate. He sure knows how to find it.  
“Come on, baby.” He groans, “Give it to me.”  
His hips slap loudly against my ass as his pace quickens. I'm giving all I've got, but it doesn't seem to be enough. I want to pour myself out in front of him, let him take as much as he wants, more if necessary. I am his, for tonight, for the rest of our lives.  
He pulls out of me, and for a moment, I fear that he is going to make me wait again. Instead, he flips me onto my back and draws me back in for another hard fuck. Within a few moments, I'm impaled again, my body stretched out in almost catatonic bliss before him. My mouth hangs open in pleasure as I watch him move gracefully above me, loving me in the way he knows best.  
“Show me.” He grunts, pleasure-filled eyes gazing down at me from between swinging dreadlocks.  
I groan a question, far too taken by the pleasure to quickly surmise what he means.  
“Show me how you play with yourself.”  
My eyes spring wide open, and I swallow back all the spit gathering in my throat. I stutter a little as waves of heat crash down my body. I love it when he talks to me like this, when I'm least expecting it, but so needy for it.  
With a quivering hand, I reach down to grasp my cock. I'm hard as a rock and emanating heat like a furnace. My hand instinctively molds around the flesh, giving a quick tug.  
“Ahhh. . .” I groan loudly.  
I can feel my ass starting to clamp down on his cock and my balls grow achingly tight with need for release. Panting and biting at my lower lip, I work my hand over my dick, rubbing it all the ways I like and toying with the exquisitely responsive head. I stretch back foreskin and practically feel the pre-cum oozing generously from the tiny crevice. I rub my thumb in, stretching and squealing as pleasure escalates inside me.  
Above me, he hoists himself harder against me and shifts into an even faster rhythm. I can feel him building to the explosion, and we're almost racing each other to the finish. Our eyes clash with wild need, almost to the point of abandon, where we are not ourselves, but versions of our pleasure, the strongest point of orgasm captured in a single glance.  
My eyes slide shut momentarily, my mind fixated on the pleasure and heat curling through my insides. There is that moment when I know it's coming, when I can feel it racing up inside me. I cling to it, because that desperation and anticipation is almost comparable to the pleasure about to be wrought upon my body. Then, he's flinging himself against me, his whole body shaking with the onslaught of pleasure and spasms. My eyes open to meet his lovely expression of ecstasy before I, too, am launched into the abyss. I'm instantly swimming in pleasure, my vision sparking with new colors of orgasm, my body convulsing in fevered waves of delight. I cum hard, much harder than by myself earlier today, and the gratification is instant. I'm relieved of the need and my hunger for him.  
He sinks to the bed beside me, arms looping weakly about my waist. He kisses me softly, mouth grazing all over the planes of my face to catch each gleaming bit of flushed skin.  
“You never change.” He smiles, “Always so impatient.”  
“I can't help it. . .” I murmur, still breathless from climax, “You are too hard to resist.”  
“Then let's not change either one of us.” He suggests, stroking my side with alluring fingertips, “Because that sex was so amazing.”  
“Mhmm.” I murmur, right before our lips meet.  
I could not agree with him more. Change is what brought us here, what made our relationship possible, but I do not want to evolve beyond this point. Could I freeze us here in this moment, I would, for it is perfect beyond words and in no need of rearranging. We are at our zenith here, at our best. He is my constant lover, and I his faithful subservient. I will love him to the end of our days, and that, I know, will never change.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to Adam Lambert for the quote, "Like air to the fire, I need you to breathe." Check out his song "By The Rules"!


End file.
